Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem- My Refugees November 17, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:32 am
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

They escaped from beneath the thumb of a Ugandan despot

Fleeing between gazes of men armed with machine guns

And appeared in my back alley. Brown skinned.  Muslim.

My friend. My first love.

His soundtrack music now echoes from our TV screens.

 

They escaped from Soviet Russia during the brief window when

Jews were allowed to leave

And appeared in the junior high gym on the first day of school.

My best friend. Now in Geneva,

with the Humanitarian Commission for Refugees.

 

They escaped from Eritrea as it tore itself from Ethiopia

Newly weds running by night, sleeping through days

And appeared at my husband’s office,  to defend children

Our good friends, first social work

Then labour mediator,  helping opposites agree.

 

They’re escaping from Syria and the religious extreme,

Risking their lives for a chance of happiness and security.

Among the crowds, will we find

New friends making new lives

In our neighbourhood, where there’s safety?

.

.

I was pondering last night, that some of the most significant people in my life came to Canada as refugees. How different my life would have been had they remained in their home countries!  While I would wish them never having to live the fear of their respective escapes, how blessed am I than Canada welcomed them, and how blessed is the country because of their labours here!  They have each contributed greatly to society.

My mom’s first friend in her new community as a newly wed was a refugee from Germany who owned the apartment they rented as well as a business and other apartment buildings.  I’ve taught students who were refugees from the civil war when Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia dissolved.  Our country was not weakened by our welcome to these desperate people; it was strengthened.

Advertisements
 

14 Responses to “poem- My Refugees”

  1. Jim Stewart Says:

    We are all immigrants in this life.

    • All of us in North Americans, at least, unless we’re aboriginal!

      • Jim Stewart Says:

        True enough. I was thinking a bit wider, maybe, about our personal journeys. We start with ourselves, obviously, but curiosity, dealing with the world, and learning to love without reservation or possession, hopefully, lead us to new territory where we must reshape our personal culture.

      • In our old age we narrow again, I observed. Your world shrinks to your room, or the ache in your joints. Much as when you’re little, and your tumbles seem like great tragedies.

  2. Melody J Haislip Says:

    Liked and shared!

  3. vjearle Says:

    This point can never be reiterated enough, especially in times like this when social hysteria tends to look for scapegoats. Thanks for publishing.

  4. fiza Says:

    Thanks for sharing these great thoughts with us Shawn. A pleasure to read.

  5. This poem is in perfect timing with what the other countries are going through… Well put!

  6. How odd that the shrillest voices against welcoming immigrants are themselves Arab-Americans, Indian-Americans, Cuban-Americans.


What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s